Wolverine's Legion
by Nmbr27
Summary: Wolverine meets five Flight 100 runaways; humans who were spliced with his DNA and given similar powers. Now, to take down Flight 100, Wolverine will have to do something he's never done before: settle a blood feud with an entire legion at his side.
1. Chapter 1

The night was cold, damp, like a thawing freezer. At least in Logan's opinion. It seemed to him that he had been in one once, but memories that far back were hardly reliable. Actually, that problem was why he was in this crumby weather, in southern Canada all wet and clammy instead of warm and cozy in the mansion.

The mansion. How he ever got to living in a mansion, he'd never know. Life had kicked him around so bad for so long he didn't have a fond memory left. That is, before he met the X-men. But not even they could keep him in one place forever. He was a loner by nature, an animal, some would say. Whenever some instinct spurred him forward, he went without a second's though. That is, until he was trudging through melting knee deep snow in the wilderness of a Canadian spring.

He smelt the place long before he saw it, the familiar smell of cheap cigars and even cheaper beer. He could smell the life there. One particular scent caught his attention. Aside from the freezing water trapped against his skin and the empty hole in his stomach, that smell drew him to the bar.

It was blissfully warm inside, heated by a huge fireplace stocked to the gills with good strong wood. To the left, three pool tables were getting a workout. At the back, a fighting cage sat waiting for its turn at the drunkards. Logan smirked. Well, at least he'd win some money here.

He headed for the counter where the bartender stood, washing out a glass. It wasn't quite rush hour for him yet, so he had time to talk. Logan settled wearily onto a bar stool.

"A beer," he muttered. His throat was still slightly frozen.

"What kind?" the bartender asked.

"Don't matter."

The bartender handed him a bottle. Taking it, Logan noted it was the second most expensive one they had, not high enough to make a man offended, not low enough the bartender would lose out on a good profit. He took half the thing in one gulp. The liquor warmed him for a second before his healing ability canceled its affects, but by then he was thawing anyway.

Refreshed, Logan turned his attention back to the scent that lured him here, that fighter's scent, all sweat and adrenaline. It had a familiar ring to it, but he couldn't quite decide why.

He found the source of the curious scent at the first pool table, a fiery little number all in black. She wore a black leather halter top and tight black pants to match. Each wrist was wrapped in strong black cloth, the kind that protected a fighter's wrists from overextension. Her hair was mercilessly pulled back into a French braid, jet black as well. Her back was turned to him, so he couldn't see her face, but her whole form screamed fighter.

He took another swig. "So what's her story?" he asked the bartender.

The man chuckled. "Lorna? Don't even think about it, eh. She's the prince of the place here."

"Prince?" Logan asked.

"Fits better 'an princess," the man replied. "Been livin' here two months now. The regulars all see her as a daughter. She's safer here than a cub in a lion's den."

"And the others?" Logan pressed.

"Well, they all learn what's what quick enough," the bartender said. Then his eyes caught one customer. "Like Joe's about to."

The man in question walked lazily up to Lorna. He watched her as she leaned forward to make a hard shot, pool cue stretching halfway across the table. His eyes were keen on the curves of her figure, a perfect hour glass, if a little leaner than was typically desired by such a man. She took the shot, a perfect strike, and maneuvered for her next hit.

"Hey, gorgeous," Joe purred.

"Go away," Lorna said. She shot again, another success, and went for her next target.

"Ah, that's not very nice," the man jested. He seemed unaware that half the bar was watching him now.

"Back off before someone gets hurt," Lorna told him. She leaned over the table again, stretched out away from him.

Joe smirked. "Nobody's going to get hurt," he said, "unless that's the way you like it." He gave her thigh a slap.

In a fury of movement, Lorna whipped around, slammed the man against a pillar with one arm, and brought the other fist forward. Logan could hear the far too familiar sound of metal on flesh, the snapping _shink!_ of extending claws. Two long blades framed the man's neck, one to each side, barely off the skin. Joe kept perfectly still. One millimeter either way would mean a quick and painful death.

"I said, don't," Lorna whispered.

The whole bar was motionless now, watching the exchange in silence. Half seemed expectant, the others terrified. Logan could only stare at the glistening metal stretching out from the girl's knuckles.

"Lorna," the bartender called.

She glanced at him. After a long moment her eyes calmed and she turned back to her prey. He gasped as she slowly relaxed her grip, causing her clawspan to narrow. The blades cut easily into the man's soft skin. Then she gripped her fingers tight, releasing the pressure on his neck, and sheathed her claws. She stepped back.

Two pairs of rough hands grasped the offender's jacket and quickly threw him from the bar. Logan pitied him a little. Those flesh wounds wouldn't feel good against the cold, and the next real shelter was at least a day's ride away. Logan turned from his thoughts to discover that everyone had gone back to what they were doing as if the confrontation never happened. Lorna, picking up her fallen pool cue, calmly took her next shot.

"What'd I tell you, eh?" the bartender asked. "She's a spitfir', that one. And the whole crew backs her."

"She's a mutant?" Logan asked.

"Now, don't be going chiding her for that. There's a good many of them round here." The bartender gave his head a small nod as if the finalize his point.

"I wasn't chiding," Logan countered quickly. The last thing he wanted was to get on this guy's bad side now. "I was just asking."

The bartender studied him a moment longer before replying. "Yeah, she's mutant. Besides the claws she's a strong healer. You know? Got caught in a fire a few weeks back. Lost all her clothes and a fine pair of shoes, but her burns healed quick enough."

Boy did he know how that felt. Instead of saying so, Logan questioned the man farther. "That all?" he asked.

"That and a keen type of senses, eh. Lorna's better 'an the hounds for most anything." It was then that Lorna glanced towards the two. She caught the bartender's gaze and held it until he backed down. "That's my cue to shut my yap," he told Logan. "Her nose ain't the only thing that's above normal."

Logan glanced back at the woman. She returned to her game, showing no sign of aggression. To him she seemed completely in her element, a lioness lording over the lower creatures with ease. A smirk crossed his lips. However she got her set of adamantium, she was safe here.

He spent the rest of the night at the bar, waiting. The night's fighting matches came and went without his or the woman's participation. When most of the customers were gone, he spoke again. "Does she drink?" he asked.

The bartender sighed, giving Lorna a glance. "Never liquor," he said, "but she'll take a cranberry juice from time to time."

Logan motioned forward and the man regretfully poured the drink. Leaving his own, Logan took the peace offering and headed for the pool table.

"You don't learn by example, do you?" she asked, not turning towards the new opponent.

Logan smirked and set the glass on the edge of the pool table. "I'm not here to harass you," he said. "I just wanted to compliment you on your work. I've never seen a move like that before."

"That's because I'm one of a kind," she replied. Her pool partner missed, and she took her aim.

"I wouldn't go that far," Logan said.

She jerked, missing her mark, and the white ball rolled harmlessly into the side pocket. The bar dropped back into silence. Slowly she turned.

"What did you say?" she asked. Her voice was ice. He could tell he hurt her, like he'd be if someone suggested the pain he'd gone through wasn't enough. She stared at him until her shock turned to anger.

"Do you know how you get a pair of these?" she asked, unsheathing her claws. "They cut you open, fill every bone with metal until no more will fit. Your body rejects it so they have to break you first, again and again until it sticks. When it's all over, you're a hundred pounds heavier. Every movement hurts, like your bones are going to break out of your skin. It takes months to get back to full strength, and then every time you pop a claw it tears holes in your hands."

Logan shrugged. "Yeah," he said, "but I still don't see how that makes you unique."

Her eyes flashed. A sharp snarl escaped her lips and she lunged forward. Quick as a snap, Logan raised a hand and blocked her claws with his own. With a small twist, he had her blades trapped, metal wedged between unbreakable metal. She stared, eyes wide as sausers, trying to break the hold. Logan kept her in place.

"The bonding process," he said. "It hurts like hell, but getting thrown around by a magnetist set on ripping it back out again? Now that's pain." He retracted his claws and she pulled away, gripping her hand.

"You're," she muttered, "you're-" Her voice failed her.

"I'm like you," he supplied.

Slowly she shook her head. "No," she whispered. "You're Wolverine. You're the first."


	2. Chapter 2

He followed Lorna outside, watching her closely, using everything he'd ever learned to try to figure out her motives. The second she'd called him by name, her whole manner changed. She'd lost her footing, no longer the lioness lording over her pride, but a fledgling on the ground, dazed and uncertain. Quickly she led him from the building.

"Hold up," he called. She jerked when he tried to grab her arm. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid," he added in a softer tone. "Just tell me what's going on."

Lorna took a deep breath. "My name's Fox," she said, "and I've been looking for you."

"Me?" he echoed skeptically.

She nodded. "Actually, we all are."

"All?" He wasn't being very articulate. Oh well, she wasn't making much sense either.

"The seconds," she supplied. "The offshoots of the Weapon X program. We've been searching for you."

"Well, you haven't been looking very hard," he said. "I've been up to these parts a few times. If your friend in there was telling the truth, you should have caught my scent and been able to follow me."

"I don't know your scent," she countered. "None of us do. You escaped long before we were captured."

"So why look for me at all?" he asked. "And I swear if you say to bring me back I'll cut your head off."

"It's not like that, honest," she said quickly. "Come with me. As good as the people are here, it's not safe to talk in the open."

After considering her offer for a moment, Logan followed her away from the bar's shadow. She reached the tree line and leapt to a thick branch. It held and she jumped to the next tree. When he remained on the ground, she glanced back.

"We can't leave a trail," she explained.

He sighed. "I'm not really the tree climbing type," he muttered, jumping to the first branch. "Plus, I'm heavier than you."

"And Wolf is heavier than you," she returned. "This is the path he took. Can't you smell it?"

He could. There was a mark of thick musk on each tree he landed on. The trail wasn't terribly difficult to manage, but he felt like an idiot jumping through the air like a damned monkey.

The two of them made their way north. It was a good half hour before Logan began to pick up the scents. Including Lorna's, there were five of them, all fighters, all vaguely familiar. The scents were thick on the place, Lorna's slightly less so than the others' for being away so long. He estimated they'd lived here for more than a year. Two probably.

Another hundred yards, and they reached a peculiar type of building. It had been constructed all by hand, but at certain points the cuts in the wood were smoother than any machine could produce. The door was a heavy slab of oak with no doorknob, but that didn't really matter. Lorna had to use all her strength to push it open.

When she did, three inhabitants glanced up from what they were doing. She led Logan in and yanked the door closed.

"What's up?" the man at her left asked.

"Logan, this is Cougar," Lorna said, motioning to the man who spoke. He gave Logan a courteous nod. "That's Jackal." The woman she indicated sniffed, her yellow eyes narrowing. "She doesn't talk much. And the little one's Coyote. We call her Cyot." This girl was, as Lorna had described, much smaller than the others, five foot four and probably between thirteen and fourteen years old.

Logan nodded to each of them. They were all kids, in his opinion; Cougar about twenty-four, Jackal and Lorna a few years younger.

Lorna glanced around. "And Wolf is…"

"Hunting," Cougar supplied. Then his ears perked. "Or he was."

Just then, the big door creaked open again, and in came a man Logan instantly pegged as danger. He stood six feet even, broad shouldered with thick muscles and an ever-ready stance. Currently he carried what looked to be a fair sized bear over his shoulder, gutted and cleaned. His attention immediately locked on the newcomer.

Lorna stepped between them.

"It's all right," she said. "I brought him here."

Slowly Wolf set down his catch, eyes always on Logan. "This isn't the time to be bringing home dates, Fox," he said. "You were supposed to be on guard duty."

"My name's Logan," Logan cut in. He didn't care for letting others lead him around like this. "But some people still call me Wolverine."

The uproar that ensued was tremendous. The three to his side leapt to their feet, rushing forward to encircle him. Even Wolf moved in closer. They all talked at once. What they said, Logan couldn't catch. It all came too quickly. Finally Lorna waded into the center of the disturbance and pushed them back.

"Hey, give him some room," she called.

Logan caught the look in her eye and smirked. She had wanted to tell the others. Oh well. What did she expect with him as her quarry?

"He's really the Wolverine?" Wolf asked.

Logan could understand the guy's skepticism, being a good head and shoulders taller than the supposed find. But there was an easy enough way to settle this.

_shink!_

That got rid of any doubt.

"They caught against mine," Lorna told her pack. "Look for yourselves. Not a scratch on them. They're pure."

"May I?" Wolf asked.

Logan nodded, and the man lightly touched the side of his claw. He ran a finger down its smooth surface then suddenly reached above it and thrust his hand palm first into the bladed edges. Logan could hear the grating sound as the adamantium in his claws tried to cut through the adamantium in his opponent's hand. The screeching made his hair stand on end.

After pushing down with all his might, Wolf finally lifted his hand. It healed over easily, and he inspected Logan's claws, still gleaming and unworn, if a little blood-stained.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

Wolf nodded. "We knew you'd come back sometime," he said, "but we have to be careful. There are still some Flight 100s out there looking for us."

"Flight 100?" Logan prompted.

"The offshoot I told you about," Lorna explained. "They got your DNA from samples kept at Weapon X. We were all spliced with it."

"Spliced?" He had gone back to repeating people. Damn.

"They introduced your DNA into our systems," Wolf explained, "made us more like you: healing, heightened sensed, everything."

"Including the feral nature," Cougar said. He glanced at Jackal, and she gave an annoyed sniff. "Some more than others."

"All of you have been through the bonding process?" Logan asked.

"To some extent," Lorna said. "Wolf's got the full skeletal work. So do Jackal and I. He's got four longs claws that come out through his knuckles and she, well…" The woman in question lifted a hand, fingers upright. Five sharp points ripped through her skin. "Jackal's got miniatures stashed in the last digit of each finger." She glanced to her other male teammate. "Cougar only got the claws done. They're holstered in his hands." Obediently, he unsheathed his claws, three short blades that exit between his knuckles.

"And what about the little one?" Logan asked.

"With Cyot they tried something new," Lorna explained. "Sweetie, show him what you can do."

A strangely excited look lit the girl's eyes. With a slight twitch, hundreds of spikes sliced out through her skin. Each was an inch long, at least what could be seen, and sharp on three edges. At their present position, they sat at a forty-five degree angle to her skin facing downward. She stretched her fists, and the scales there shifted, sharp points extending at whatever digit was farthest out. A second later, the scales dropped flat, casing her completely. Her whole exposed form glistened silver.

"A complete layer of adamantium sits right below her skin," Lorna said as Cyot's scales slid back into her body. "Laying flat, they deflect any and all attack."

"And raised?" Logan prompted.

"Well, if someone knew the right angle," Lorna said and left it at that. "It's a trade off between offense and defense."

"So what do you all need me for?" he asked.

"We need your help," Wolf replied. "Flight 100 wasn't exactly thrilled to see us go. They've been trying to track us down since we escaped."

"Can't you outrun them? That's what I did."

"They learned from Weapon X's mistakes," Cougar said. He pulled down his shirt's neck to show a welt just below his collarbone. It was in the shape of an 'F' followed by a 2. The others showed him theirs as well, each an F with a number designating their position.

"They tagged us," Wolf explained. "These tracking chips give away our position anywhere but here."

"Why here?" Logan asked.

"I thought that'd be obvious," Wolf returned. "The Weapon X base, the one you were held at, is just a mile from here. Its canceling field's still up. It jams the signal."

"This is the only place we're safe," Cougar said.

"Why don't you just cut the damn things out?"

"They're cased in adamantium and wired into our skeletal structures," Cougar said. "I could probably get away without half my collar bone, but the others are unbreakable."

"If we run, they follow with guns blazing," Lorna said. "If we stay, we're here for eternity."

Logan receded into thought for a moment. When he finally came back to the others, his look was set.

"Then we bring the fight to them."


	3. Chapter 3

He blocked out the screaming. It was the only way he could keep going. Jackal held down the man's left arm, Lorna his right. Wolf kept the wound open. The job was too delicate for using his claws, so Logan used a knife instead, and every time it scraped against adamantium, it got duller. But that didn't matter. He needed to get the tracking device out.

Cyot held the man's hand. His nails dug into her skin, making deep gouges in her palms. Logan couldn't worry about that. The others told him she was tough. Well, now she was proving it.

There was a lot of blood. A lot. They'd been at this for an hour and a half. Every time he thought he'd gotten to the edge of the tracking device's base, the knife scraped again, and Cougar screamed. He had kept silent for the first thirty minutes. Then he grunted. But everyone has their limits, and his was an hour and twenty minutes.

There. Finally. He pierced the bone straight through. With a last jerk, Logan ripped the whole bloody mess out. Everyone started to relax, but he stopped them.

"We have to keep the wound open until the bone grows back," he said. "Otherwise, his skin will close the spot."

So they kept cutting back the healing flesh, watching, waiting until the bone began to grow. When it finally reconnected at the center, everyone let go as fast as they could to give him room. Cougar lay on the floor, unmoving as the wound was finally allowed to close. When it did, he rolled to his side, moaning. They waited in silence, giving him as much time as he needed.

After what seemed like hours, Cougar rose. They supported him up and then into a chair where he rested another moment. Finally he shook his head.

"Let's do this then," he muttered and got to his feet.

Logan nodded. "We'll be back as quick as we can," he told the others. Then he and Cougar headed outside.

He waited as Cougar breathed in the cold air. It calmed him further and he turned to the job at hand.

"The closest reception point is to the north east," he said. "There's no trail there, obviously, so we'll have to make it up as we go along."

"Lead the way," Logan told him.

The two men set off across the treetops, leaping from branch to branch. A few creaked under their weight, but they were carful to stay on the thickest ones. After a while, Logan glanced over.

"So what's your real name?" he asked.

"Cougar is my real name," the man said.

"You must have been called something before Flight 100 got hold of you," Logan argued.

His companion paused, balancing on a particularly strong branch. "Jonny," he whispered.

"Short for Jonathan?" Logan asked.

The man smirked. "Short for Jonen," he returned. "My parents were a bit odd when it came to naming their kids."

"You've got siblings?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, Two." He looked away. "Lorna and Jani."

"Jani?"

"Jackal," Jonny supplied. "Twins, you know. They don't look it or act it, but they've got that twin bond. One always knows what the other's doing."

"You were all taken?" Logan asked as they headed off again.

"Not exactly," Jonny said. "After I was successfully spliced with your DNA, Flight 100 went after my sisters."

"We'll stop them," Logan said kindly. "Once and for all. They'll never hurt you again."

The man nodded and they continued on in silence. It was nearly an hour before they stopped again. Logan pulled a disk from his pocket. A golden 'X' shone on its surface.

"Xavier, come in," he called.

There was a pause.

"You sure we're out of the base's range?" he asked Jonny.

The man started to reply, but just then a new voice rose into the air.

"Wolverine? What's wrong," Xavier called. "I was under the impression you wanted to be left alone."

"I did," Logan said, "but things have changed."

"Oh?" the communicator questioned.

"I need you to look someone up for me," he explained.

"By 'look someone up,' you mean…"

"I mean use that big round room of yours to find a guy who can't be found."

Xavier didn't speak for a long moment. Finally he replied. "All right. What's his name?"

Logan glanced at his companion.

"Alex Breech," he supplied.

"Alex Breech," Logan repeated. "He's probably got some psychic blocks set up, but you should be able to get around them with Cerebro."

"All right. I'll call back when I have it." The communicator clicked, and Logan placed it back in his pocket.

"So that's it?" Jonny asked.

Logan nodded. "This might take a while."

He was right. It was a good ten minutes before Xaier returned a bit winded and said, "he's twenty six miles due north of Quebec."

"Cocky son of a gun," Jonny whispered. "He's back at the old base."

"Thanks," Logan told his communicator. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Logan, I'm sending out the team."

"Keep the kids where they are," Logan snapped.

"Logan, this man, whatever your reason for finding him, he is not to be trifled with. Not even you can take him alone."

Logan glanced to the young man at his side. "I won't be alone," he said, "and you don't want your X-men associated with what we're about to do."


	4. Chapter 4

It took three days and every bit of memory he had, but he finally got the Weapon X base scrambler out of its blasted casing and onto a makeshift carrier. Being back in that place, in that hell, made his skin crawl, but if they were going to get to Quebec, they'd need it.

Once the scrambler was safely brought to his new allies' shack, they all grouped together for a final meeting.

"Quebec's a long way," Jonny muttered.

"We've gone that far before," Wolf told him.

"Yeah, but not with that thing." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the scrambler. "We'll leave a trail, and I'm not just talking physical."

"We'll have to stay away from towns," Logan said. "A full city losing all communication is going to get noticed."

"Can we lower the field?" Lorna asked.

"Not any more than we already have," Logan replied. "I've a course mapped out already that should get us there. It's a bit of a zigzag, but it'll work."

"When are we leaving?" Cyot asked.

"We?" Logan returned. "You're not coming."

"What?" Wolf shrieked, bolting to his feet.

"Logan, we can't leave her here," Lorna said calmly, setting a hand lightly on Wolf's arm. He glared at her for a moment before sitting.

"She's just a kid," Logan said.

"She's part of it," Jonny said.

"But she shouldn't have to be exposed to this."

"She already was," Jackal muttered, bringing shocked glances from everyone at her first words in days.

Lorna was the first to recover. "And she has a chip," she reminded him. "If we take the scrambler away from her, she'll be an easy target."

Logan grimaced. They were right, of course, but he still didn't like the idea. "All right. Let's get some sleep. We'll _all _leave in the morning."

The others agreed and in no time at all they were in their accustomed positions. Jackal sat leaning against the far corner, her eyes half open in her sleep. Lorna and Jonny slept close by, but not close enough to be in danger of one of her nightmares. She had about three a night by Logan's count. Wolf slept immediately next to the door. Not that anyone could get even close to the house without alerting all of them, but it never hurt to be too careful. Cyot was next to the fire, curled up on her side.

Silently Logan watched them all, kids whose lives had been ripped from them, stolen in such a brutal way. He would never wish his lot on anyone, and here he sat, looking at five who shared it.

He was just drifting off when a soft rustle roused him again. When he opened his eyes, Cyot was creeping over to him on all fours, as quiet as he had ever been while stalking prey. But that wasn't her purpose. She was trying not to wake the others. He waited in silence as she made her way across the room and settled down at his side. There was a streak of soot on her cheek. For some reason it reminded him of how young she was.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I can't sleep," she returned. Her eyes caught on Wolf's chest, which rose with a slightly deeper breath. She held hers until he was safely back in his dreams.

"Are you nervous?" Logan asked.

She shook her head.

"You're not?" He couldn't believe that. This girl was younger than Kurt, and even he got nervous before a big battle.

"This isn't as bad as when I assassinated that political leader in Baghdad."

Oh. He shifted. "When did you do that?" he asked.

"Over two years ago," she replied. "It was my last mission."

"How long were you in Flight 100?" He was starting to worry. If it was an offshoot of his program, Flight 100 had to be at least a year younger, but that was still older than this little one.

"I don't remember," Cyot told him. "Dad says I was too young to remember when they took us."

"Dad?"

She turned to look at Wolf again. "Dad," she repeated.

Oh.

After a moment, she glanced back at him. "You have a different name, right?"

"Beside's Wolverine?" he asked. "Yeah, it's Logan. What's yours?"

"My what?"

"Your real name," Logan said. "What did your dad call you before you got taken?"

She remained silent for a long time. "I don't remember."

He grimaced. It wasn't right for a girl her age to get stuck with a code name. "Well, you know, I can't remember my real name either."

"But Logan is-"

"Logan is the name I chose after I escaped Weapon X," he explained. "You could pick a new name, too."

She thought, her brow pulling down to frame her eyes with wrinkles. It made the soot shift. Finally she smiled. "How about Sin?" she asked.

"Sin?" he returned.

She nodded eagerly.

Oh well. "That sounds fine. You should ask your dad about it though."

"Okay," Sin said. He could tell she wasn't going to let the name go.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" he asked. "We've got a big day ahead of us."

She nodded and quietly crawled back to her sleeping place, hands and feet meeting the floor without a sound. He almost expected her to walk in a circle a few times before settling down, but she simply knelt, pulled up the wad of cloth she used as a pillow, and lay down. It wasn't long before she slipped into a dream.

Logan watched her for a bit, listening to her breathing. His eyelids were getting heavy. He hadn't slept very much in the last four days. Ever since he met Lorna, he had stayed up at night, just thinking.

Jackal tossed in her sleep. She moaned. They had worked out an agreement. Unless she explicitly called out their names, the others blocked out her nightmares. That was the only way anyone could get any sleep. After a few moments of thrashing, Jackal bolted forward, eyes wild, claws extended. When the apparent attacker didn't appear, she sighed, wiped the sweat from her face, and went back to sleep. She never noticed Logan watching her. Either that, or she pretended not to. Realistically, it was probably the latter.

His eyes drooped again. He needed sleep, just like them. He settled down, finding as comfortable a position as the floor offered, just like them. He drifted off, ears perked for danger even in sleep, just like them.


	5. Chapter 5

It was slow going. The snow was up past their knees, wet and clinging. Logan and Wolf carried the scrambler, one in front, one in back, and fought the freezing snow the whole way. The twins leapt through the trees on either side, far enough away that Logan couldn't always see them. He'd catch sight of one now and then, like tree nymphs following a couple of lonely travelers. Not that he thought of nymphs that often.

Sin was behind them, close enough that they could always hear her movements. That had been Logan's idea. He knew they needed a rear guard, but he also knew that was the least probable ambush point. And even if something happened, they'd hear. It did unnerve him slightly, though, at how little noise she made scrambling across pealing bark.

Jonny was up ahead. He had Logan's communicator and was checking the front edge of the scrambler's range. Logan could hear him now and then, a small rustle followed by an electronic beep or static, depending on if he'd hit the edge or not.

With so much protection, Logan felt more at ease than he thought possible. Missions like this, blood feuds, had always been solo for him in the past, but here he was, completely surrounded by backup.

"Cyot's given herself a new name," he told Wolf quietly. Their guard guaranteed no one unwelcome was close enough to hear, but he didn't think talking at full volume was such a good idea.

"Oh?" Wolf prompted. "Why?"

"She commented on my name, and I told her I made it up," he explained.

"What did she come up with?" Wolf asked.

"Sin."

The man chuckled.

"What?"

"You said she made it up," Wolf told him.

"She did."

"Cyn is her real name," Wolf explained. "Cynthia." Logan smirked as his companion glanced back. "She remembered it after all."

"When were you taken?" Logan asked. He knew this was getting personal, but he really wanted to know.

The man obliged. "Going on eleven years now," he replied. "Cyn was three. I was the only thing she had. They originally just took her to tie up loose ends, but then they found out she was a mutant herself and, well…"

"The scales," Logan supplied.

Wolf nodded. "She had a physical mutation that would work with the bonding process. They coated her scales with adamantium, forced her mutation to manifest early, and she became a better assassin than I ever was."

"I'm sorry," Logan told him.

"Don't be. If she hadn't had that mutation, they would have killed her."

The man stayed silent for a moment. Then, "my name's Kent, by the way."

They traveled until dark. Then they grouped together and made a fire. Logan and Jonny checked the perimeter of the scrambling field. They'd managed to stay about a mile away from the nearest town. It was cutting it closer than Logan liked, but it would work. When they returned to the group, they found a few hares roasting. The smell coming off them made their stomachs growl. They ate in silence, rested for about an hour, and set off again.

It was after midnight before they settled down for the night. Kent set a fire, small, smokeless, but big enough to take off the sting of the cold. They rested in silence. Jackal perched on a low branch of a nearby tree, keeping watch. Jonny sat cross-legged, letting Lorna use his lap as a pillow. Cyn knelt close by the fire, playing with a few coals. Logan and Kent both leaned against a wide tree, resting with a mutual protective air for the group.

The fire snapped quietly, shedding a warm glow over the travelers. After a moment, Kent smirked.

"What?" Logan asked.

"I was just thinking," he muttered. "I was just thinking about the last time I went camping."

The others perked up slightly, all interested in a bit of relief from their tension and tiring work.

"It was Cyn's birthday," he said, nodding to his daughter. "I brought her to Yosemite. We sat at a fire like this one, small, but enough." He smirked again. "In the morning, I woke up to her running her fingers down my arm. She had used the fire's soot to turn my skin completely black."

The others chuckled, Cyn quickly dropping the coal she was playing with. She sat silently for a moment. Logan could tell she was trying to remember. Her third birthday? Well, whether she remembered it or not, it was a good story, and now she knew it. She seemed to come to the same conclusion shortly after and turned her eyes up, smiling.

"I didn't like camping," Jonny stated. Lorna smirked as he explained. "The last time I went on a fishing trip, this one threw me in the lake." He indicated the woman in his lap.

"Pushed," she corrected him.

"And it was your fault," Jackal said, dropping from her perch to settle at his side. "You were the one who ate her marshmallow."

Logan gave a quiet smile. This had obviously become a long fought event, light heartedly, but argued nonetheless.

"And I was the one who got pneumonia," Jonny told her. His sisters chuckled, Jackal leaning against him gently. "We did catch a lot of fish, though."

"I caught the most," Lorna said. "Jani came in second."

The woman bristled slightly at her own name. Logan knew how she felt. After being Jackal for so long, could she really go back to Jani? The others caught on as well, and there was a tense moment before she finally nodded.

"Jonny came in third," she said, stuttering slightly on his name. "He was so mad."

"That's the real reason he doesn't like camping," Lorna added.

Everyone laughed again.

Through the night, they slept on the dry branches overhead, taking turns at watch. The static that continually played from Logan's communicator was reassuring. They knew they were undetected, and for now that was enough.

The next morning their work was easier. They'd adjusted to their roles and the extra weight of the scrambler. They made good headway, more than Logan had anticipated, so they paused close to sunset and readjusted their plans.

"We're almost there," Jonny said, dropping down next to them from his check of the perimeter. "The edge is maybe a mile and a half away from the base. I can smell the guards. Twenty six at least."

"A few second's work," Lorna said.

The others nodded agreement.

"So we take it another mile," Logan said. "The rest should be monitored, and we definitely don't want them to know we've got this thing." He tapped the scrambler gently. "The rest we'll sprint."

"They've got to have some precautions against us," Wolf said. "Adamantium doors, locks."

"Then we'll go through the wall," Logan returned humouredly. "I don't care how much money they have; no one's got enough adamantium to protect an entire base."

The others nodded.

"So you all know your parts?" he asked.

They nodded again.

"Good. Let's take them out."


	6. Chapter 6

Logan kept low, reaching the last cover before the base in silence. It was close to midnight now. Every single base he'd ever hit switched shifts at midnight. That's why he knew they wouldn't. Flight 100 supposedly learned from Weapon X's mistakes, and that predictability was one of the biggest. Of course, the remedy had its problems as well. It guaranteed that no more than the required guard would be armed and ready for an attack. At least, not until he wanted them to be.

Glancing back to check that Jonny was behind him, Logan sprinted forward. He had found a black spot in the security system; a three-foot gap opened every time the two cameras before him turned. They made it to the wall with plenty of time. When the cameras shifted back, there was no trace of their arrival.

They inched along the wall until they reached the base's east door. Logan glanced at the lock. Definitely adamantium. They'd have to use their ruse after all. He glanced to his companion. The man made a hand signal.

Well?

Logan signaled back.

No go. Wait for the attack.

They didn't have to wait long. After a few minutes, the alarm above the door blared. He knew they'd picked up the others' tracking devices. Spread out in the woods, carrying Jonny's tracker as well, the rest of their team were racing forward, past the edge of the scrambler and well into the range of the base sensors.

He could hear shouting and pounding boots behind the door. After a moment it burst open. Men armed up to their teeth poured out into the open air, dogs racing in front of them, and entered the woods in troves. None noticed the two men hidden behind the door.

The two ambushers waited. The door clicked shut. Then it opened again, admitting the men who had been caught off guard by the attack. This time Logan and Jonny rushed first, rounding the door and slashing the men at its threshold. Shots rang out, but it was already too late. With a pile of bodies propping the door open, they headed inside.

More alarms screeched. The cameras had caught them. Logan smirked, thinking of how the guards in the security room must feel, not only realizing Jonny had gotten rid of his tracker, but that he had company.

They raced on, making quick work of the men that swarmed them. His companion fought so swiftly, Logan could work at his top speed, and that meant a dizzying bloodbath for their enemies. After slicing a final opponent, Jonny caught the scent they were looking for.

"This way," he called. They headed down the corridor.

As they traveled the endless maze of the base, Logan began to work out the scent they were following. Gunpowder, leather, steel. All the things a rebel black ops leader was supposed to smell like. And yet. Logan gave a smirk. The man had an odd taste in aftershave for someone who supposedly knew any distinguishing smell could mean disaster.

At the next bend, they heard two sets of footsteps approach from behind at full sprint. Finishing off a couple more unfortunate guards, they turned to catch sight of Lorna and Jani. Their skin and clothes were speckled with blood, but none of it was their own. Logan was impressed. If he had had their job, he probably would have gotten a body shot of two. Not that it would have done any good.

"Smell it?" Jonny called, not stopping. He was already half way down the hall by the time his sisters came on the scene.

"We didn't come here for you," Jani returned.

They traced their prey to a back wing of the base, and then to a wide corridor. Logan crossed the threshold first and doubled back as soon as he could get his feet under him. Lorna was already in the line of fire. He pushed into her to stop her momentum.

"Get back," he shouted. Too late. The soldiers fired, and Logan's chest screamed with pain. He dropped to the ground, and the others pulled him back to the shelter of their hall. He jerked, fist clenched, finder nails gouging holes in his palms as he cried out.

"What happened?" Jani called, bringing up the rear.

Logan gritted his teeth, trying to open his eyes. "Get it out," he hissed. His vision blurred, his breath short, and the whole time something in his chest pulsed with an electrical current.

He felt Lorna's hands. Then. "Oh, God." The tone in her voice was not reassuring. "Jonny, help me." Another pair of hands gripped Logan's shoulders and then all he could feel was pain. After what seemed like eternity, the racking in his chest subsided. Slowly he opened his eyes to see a long barbed shaft coated in his blood. Lorna dropped it to the ground as Kent and Cyn finally reached them.

"What happened? Why have you stopped?" Kent called.

"Logan got shot with something," Jonny explained, motioning to the bloody shaft. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Don't get hit," Logan stuttered. His chest had healed, but something else was starting to numb his body. The thing had released a poison into his system.

His companions glanced at each other, all arriving at the same conclusion. They turned to Cyn.

"Hun?" Kent asked.

She nodded, releasing her adamantium scales.

"Keep them flat until you get in range," Lorna told her. "Then only release the ones on your hands. These people know the angle needed to get past your defenses."

Cyn nodded again and walked to the front of the group. Logan watched from his position on the ground as she breathed in deeply to calm herself. Then she raced forward.

Go get 'em, kid, he thought to himself.

Shots rang out, followed immediately by ricochets. Then cries filled the air. In seconds it was over. A disturbing calm covered the area. Lorna and Jonny helped Logan to his feet and supported him to the corridor. The sight that greeted them dissolved any lingering doubt he had of the little sprite's ability.

"Let's go," Cyn called, stepping over the dozen bodies, and continued down the hall.

At a slightly slower pace than before, they chased their quarry, whose scent was getting stronger with each step. Logan could barely stand, but with a fighter supporting each arm, he could still move. There were fewer guards here, most had already met their end out in the snow, and Cyn was a good four yards in front of them, so there was no one left by the time Logan got there.

After another turn, they finally found what they were looking for. Alex Breech, along with his top guard, was heading for the back exit to the facility. They caught the guy, of all places, in the bonding chamber. Cyn went for him first, flanked by her father, and each was caught up by one of his guards. The grating sound of metal on metal told Logan these fighters were equipped with adamantium armor. How much of that stuff does this guy have? he thought.

Jani entered the fray, caught one guard at a joint in his armor, and dropped him in an instant. The guard next to him noted the weakness and took his try at the furious mutant.

"Go," Logan told the two supporting him. "I'll be fine." He wouldn't. He could feel the poison working deeper into his system, but the others needed the backup. Hesitating only a moment, Jonny and then Lorna released him. He lowered himself to the floor out of sight and out of range. He could hear the fighting and then a scream cut short as another guard fell.

He could barely move. Even his throat was starting to close up. It was the first time in a long while he felt like he was actually going to die. From the back and forth shuffle he heard around the corner, it wasn't a sure thing that the others could get him out of there. Even if they could, they didn't know what he'd gotten shot with. This may be his last chance.

Before his throat closed completely, he reached in his pocket for a familiar circular piece of metal just the size of his palm. He hit the button.

"Marvel Girl?" he called, his voice scratching slightly. He had to tell her.

After a moment, the device sounded.

"Wolverine? What is it?" Her voice sounded concerned. That was sweet. The last time they talked, she threw him out a window for hitting Cyclops.

"Jeanie, I just wanted to say thanks for the memories," he said. He wanted to add he still loved her, but nothing came out. His throat was completely closed. In a few moments, he'd pass out.

"Wolverine?" she called. "Logan, are you still there? What's going on? Why are you talking like that? Wolv-"

He smashed the communicator against the ground. If Flight 100 captured him, he wasn't about to endanger the only people who ever treated him halfway human. Jean was probably still calling for him. Oh well. He didn't mean to worry her, but at least he'd gotten to say goodbye.

Just as his vision was going black, he heard another dying shriek, and then everything was quiet. He couldn't see anything, but a soft hand touched his arm. Then he couldn't feel anything either. He was drifting, heading for that famed light he always managed to elude.

Suddenly, his whole body screamed as something pierced his heart. He was swearing at himself for getting stabbed when the tension on his limbs released. Slowly his vision returned. Lorna and Cyn crouched before him.

"Is he alive?" Cyn asked. Her adamantium scales dripped with blood, but she didn't pay that any attention.

"I don't know," Lorna muttered. She touched his face. He blinked, and that simple movement made the woman before him ecstatic. "You're alive!" She wrapped her arms around him, and he suddenly found himself in a furious kiss.

It was kind of funny, really. He still couldn't move his arms. Otherwise he would have seized control of the embrace. As it was, she held complete control. After a moment she let go, seeming to realize what she was doing, and blushed like a little girl. Then the two helped him to his feet.

"The others are chasing Breech," Lorna explained. "He escaped during the fight."

"What did you shoot me with?" Logan asked. His legs started to respond to his command.

"It was an antidote these idiots were carrying," Lorna said. "It was the only thing that looked like it might help, so I took a chance."

"Thanks," he whispered. He was impressed and realized he now owed her his life.

They made their way outside where four sets of footprints led off into the woods. They were about to follow the trail when their lost companions returned, dragging a forth figure with them. The man was alive, to Logan's surprise. Battered a bit, but alive. Kent threw him to the ground. When he looked up, he caught Logan's eyes and his widened.

"Weapon X," he whispered.

"It's Logan," Logan returned. He crouched down in front of Breech. "But it'll be Wolverine if you don't tell us everything we want to know."

"How many other bases are there?" Kent asked.

The man hesitated, so Logan unsheathed a claw. "You know," he said casually, "not all cuts kill. Some just plain hurt, not to mention limit your…options in the future." He lowered his claws until the man caught his meaning.

"Okay, okay," he cried. "There are no other bases. After I lost these five, our investors backed out. We have sleeper agents in a couple cities yet, and there's a safe house in Kyro, but that's it." He glanced towards the base. "Almost everyone was here, trying to figure out how to find you. It would have brought Flight 100 back online. Guess that's not going to happen now."

"No, it's not," Jani said. Her claws extended. She moved forward.

"Wait," Logan called, catching the woman's arm. She snarled at him, and for an instant he thought it would come to blows. The others broke the tension.

"What do you mean, wait?" Kent called. "This is what we came here for."

"We came to shut Flight 100 down," Logan returned. "It's down."

"He'll just start it again," Jonny argued.

"Not if he's in jail." He'd seen the guy before, different name, different look, but definitely the same guy. "This is Daniel Prill," Logan explained. "He's wanted in the States for everything from torture of prisoners to murder. Bring him anywhere across the boarder, and the government will be on him in seconds."

"Wait a minute," Lorna called. "You're Weapon X, and you're telling _us_ not to kill someone?"

"Wouldn't you kill the guy who destroyed your life?" Jani hissed.

"I did," Logan snapped. God, he did. He strung the man up, cut him apart. At the time, it was the most therapeutic thing he'd ever done. But now… "There isn't a night that goes by where I don't see his face, what I did to him. You wanna kill him? Do it. But you'll feel like shit later. You'll feel like you're worse than he is."

The others paused. He knew they were weighing what he said. He wasn't convinced they'd agree, but then the decision was taken out of their hands.

No one saw the gun until it was too late. As the man's body fell to the ground, Logan wondered what Kurt would have to say about this. He was pretty sure suicide was one of those things that got you a direct ticket out of heaven. Not that he minded the idea.

"Well," Kent muttered. That was the only thing said. Whoever still wanted to kill the guy lost their chance, and whoever just accepted that he was alive released their anger for nothing. Yes, "well" did rather sum it up.

As the final echo of the shot faded, a new, familiar sound descended on the base. To Logan's horror, the X-wing appeared in the sky above them, and his old teammates, all of them, the X-men, dropped from it. Jean was first, her telekinesis pulling her far faster than gravity ever could. Then Storm and Cyclops, Iceman and Rogue. They were all there. Nightcrawler bamfed in at the side of the group, filling out the ranks.

"Stand down," Logan shouted as all of his new comrades unsheathed their claws. He headed for Jean as they grudgingly stepped out of their fighting stances.

The X-men didn't really look too good. They all smelt like sulfur, and something had singed a couple uniforms. Jean looked worried as hell, slightly green too. He guessed it was from all the carnage she could sense.

"What are you doing here?" Logan asked.

"What are we doing here?" Jean echoed in a screech. "You sounded like you were dying."

"I was," he returned, "but I didn't expect you to fly all the way here."

"We were in Michigan," Cyclops explained. "Some wacko with fire powers tried to melt the Midwest." He frowned when Logan didn't respond. "You didn't want our help?"

"Come on," Rogue called. "We can at least give you a ride back to the mansion."

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan caught Kent's hand signal. They were leaving. Another signal.

Are you coming?

He grimaced. Leave the X-men for good? The people who showed him life was still worth living? No, that wasn't the question. Go with his comrades? His fellow tortured souls? His family, if they needed a name. They knew his life first hand, or at least in part. In some strange way, that made them his family. Something in their scents told him that. Then he looked at Lorna.

"Are you coming?" Cyclops asked, echoing Kent's silent question.

Logan shook his head. "Sorry, Slim," he said. "This isn't over."

It wasn't. There were still the scattered agents Breech mentioned and the safe house. "And Jean, thanks for coming after me."

His new pack caught their cue. They all turned and leapt into the trees. They started to make their way through the woods, only Lorna waiting for him to follow. When he started to, Scott spoke.

"Hey, Logan," he called. He took the communicator from his belt and tossed it over. "Call us any time."

Logan caught it, a smile pulling at his lips. "Thanks," he whispered. He turned and jumped to the branch next to Lorna's. They looked at each other. He could get used to that look. Without another word, they disappeared into the darkness.


End file.
